


Soft Bodies; Sharp Words

by amber_sword_lilies



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Shaming, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 02:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amber_sword_lilies/pseuds/amber_sword_lilies
Summary: A day at the beach, boy at their side, the partner's receive some unwanted and unsolicited opinions that shake their confidence.





	1. Noctis

The afternoon had slipped out from under the burning heat of midday. Galdin, fully bathed in sunshine, was the pinnacle of luxury and escape. People came from all over Eos to walk along the south-facing sands, to dine at the Mother of Pearl and generally to bask in the most romantic atmosphere this side of Altissia. Most people came here to do that.

Not Noctis.

He came here to fish.

As a result, the two of you were nestled comfortably on the end of a jetty. You’d only managed to drag him from the hotel room after some extreme persuasion and even then, only after noon. The beach was in a quieter lull. People had either begun the long drive home or were trying to obtain a table for dinner. Noctis had taken advantage of the lack of people, both to surface and show his face, and to crack out the fishing rod.

Sighing in contentment, you leant back on your hands and felt the gentler afternoon sun wash over your skin. There was nothing but the quiet rumble of waves, a rare bird crying as it flew out to sea and the soft rustling of palm fronds on the shore. It was perfect.

“Does she honestly think a tan’s going to make a difference?”

 _Honestly_ , you wanted a wave to crash towards you and pull you out to the deeper blue. Somewhere quiet, somewhere the filling of your lungs could drown the screaming in your mind. Somewhere the weight in your gut was warranted and would pull you to the depths. Just for a little while. You wanted the pressure of fathoms of water to crush you and make you smaller.

It’s amazing how fragile confidence can be.

You crossed your legs, trying to minimise the space you took up, only to uncross them again because _why did they have to look like that?_ You fidgeted for another few minutes, painfully aware of every inch of exposed skin. The sun didn’t hold any warmth anymore.

“Hey,” you mumbled, drawing him away from the enchantment of the horizon. He turned to you, blue eyes oh-so-casual and unaware. “I’m a little chilly. I’m gonna go get a top or something.”

“Okay,” he nodded, turning back to his fishing. It was a rare occasion that you were grateful for his lack of perception, but this was one of them. You stood and walked away, already mapping your route into the hotel room and a shower too hot for skin to bear.

He hadn’t heard it. Who could blame him? Lost in the bliss of open water, with his favourite person by his side, he was in heaven and deaf to the world. Completely zoned out. However, the longer he sat there, the more the look on your face lingered in his mind. There was a resignation there. Defeat. He tried to piece it together, mulling over the clues in his mind as words formed from his memory.

Then it clicked.

He cast the fishing pole back into the armiger without even checking for witnesses. Stiff from hours spent motionless on the jetty, he felt a pull in his back when he began to run back to the hotel room.

By the time he swiped his key card in the door, he was hissing at the throb in his lower back. He mentally cursed himself, replaying his indifferent response time and time again in his mind. He half slammed the door shut. Sapphire eyes swept the room.

“Y/N?” he called, throwing his voice enough for it to fill the cavernous suite.

“In here.”

Though raised slightly, your voice was weak. He followed it into the bathroom, boots loud on lacquered floors, then clean, marble tiles.

You were there, curled on the floor. You’d calmed down enough to avoid taking that scalding shower. For now, you were focused on the cool feel of the tiles under your palms and feet as you sat with your knees pulled to your chest.

“What happened?”

You shook your head, loosely focused on his boots. “Nothing.”

“ _Y/N_.”

“Nothing. Seriously, it’s not-.”

“Talk to me, please.” He crouched, trying to catch your averted gaze with concerned blue hues. “I thought everything was fine- everything _was_ fine. You said you were okay with-.”

“I was! Okay? I was, but I can’t unhear things,” you blurted, nails digging viciously into your palms. You regretted your next words as soon as you said them. “Please, just go away. For now, anyway. Just- leave me alone.”

He was silent. Still. You could hear his breathing get heavier, shaking out of his nostrils loud enough to be audible. He stood up straight, looming in black and you honestly thought he’d curse you before he walked away. Call you pathetic, or oversensitive.

He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing a pale torso, and threw the balled fabric onto the floor. He turned around.

“Look at it.”

“Noct…”

“ _Look at it,_ ” he spoke again, this time through gritted teeth. Despite his youth, he still had an edge of command. You brought your eyes up. Immediately drawn to the mangled scars on his back, you fixed on the skin that should’ve been as smooth as the rest of him. You were reminded how pale he was, mainly from his own refusal to go without a shirt. The scars were rough, so textured and raw that they looked as though they’d begin to bleed again any moment now.

“That’s different,” you insisted.

“It’s not,” he turned around, closing the space between you to crouch in front of you. “Some days I don’t mind it. I think it’s cool sometimes. Others… I wish it wasn’t there. I hate it.”

You opened your mouth to begin a response, but he beat you to it.

“That’s sometimes. I-I think you’re gorgeous, _all_ the time.”

He offered a nervous smile with his words as he took a seat on the bathroom floor. His fingers wound with yours, neither of you able to look at each other. After a while, he spoke up.

“You…wanna get room service? Those blue drinks looked really good.”


	2. Prompto

The sun was bright and high, casting quiet, lacy shadows under the palm trees and heating the sand under your feet. Summer was here. The beach was inescapably warm, save for the gentle salt breeze cast onto the shore by calm teal waves. Its relief was sweet as it washed over your skin.

You’d chosen to show a little more than usual today. Over the last few months, your own acceptance had banished the cloud over your head, to the point where you’d actually been _excited_ to go to the beach and wear a two piece for the first time in years.

And who better to go with than sunshine incarnate?

He was a few paces ahead, busy searching the sand for shells and other rarities. Galdin was that much of a tourist location that the beaches were picked clean. Prompto had led you to a quieter location, a mile or two from the main quay and basking in the midday sun. Camera in hand, as always, he kept himself busy with a few shots here and there, mainly of sea glass, flotsam and jetsam.

As you reached the rock pools up ahead, a small family approached from the other end of the otherwise empty beach. Donning expensive sunglasses and oversized hats, they were no locals. The two of you smiled and waved, and they did the same. Nice as pie. It was when they’d already passed you by that you heard the nasal, Altissian accent hiss sharply.

“Some people need to think about what they wear.”

You stopped. You weren’t sure if you’d really heard it, the words were muffled and dampened as you immediately began to drown in your own mind. The refreshing sea breeze was ice cold against the skin you’d shown on a whim. On brief confidence.

That confidence was currently dashed, scribbled over to an inky mess by a spiralling mind. You tried to wipe it away with the more positive thoughts you’d adopted recently, but there it was. A truth branded ugly, and how it burned.

He’d heard it too. At first it had raked over his skin like claws, splitting open the pale, silvery lines that reminded of him of lonelier times. The sharp words made him feel half as tall, and twice as heavy. He’d felt that same weight sink in his gut, and the grip on his camera tighten dangerously. Practiced at this, he shook the thoughts away and turned back to you.

You only remembered he was there when he appeared at your side. For someone so bright in many ways, he sure could mutter darkly.

“Asshole.”

The word was growled and bitterly heated. He had stronger curses in his mind, ones from the narrow alleys and gritty, bruised knuckles of darker years, but he kept them locked away. Once he caught a glimpse of the neutral look on your face, his contorted in a hurt frown. As far as he was concerned, that was the only look you didn’t suit.

You remembered to breathe when his fingers wound between yours. He stood in front of you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. Not right now. You distracted yourself with the freckles dusting his shoulders, counting them only to lose the number and start again.

He didn’t know what to say. The scars on his sides still burned from the woman’s words, even though you’d been the target. Shrapnel had hit him nonetheless, pouring searing, molten silver into those thin, dented lines. They burned. It was then he remembered that he was shirtless, right in front of you.

He could still recall the first time that had happened. Blue eyes flicking to anything but yours as you’d inspected him with soft curiosity and light touches. The warmth of your hands had convinced him that you didn’t mind. He remembered how quietly you’d spoken to him, words hushed and sincere in the dim light of your bedroom. The ideal words for now.

He squeezed your hands gently in his and tilted back to try and catch your eye.

“Hey, Y/N, please look at me,” he coaxed, voice as warm, clear and quiet as the sky. The tired look in your eyes squeezed his throat but he’d tell you this even if it was the last thing he said.

“There’s nothing wrong with the way you look. I think you’re perfect, okay?”

A small smile flashed over you. He remembered what you’d said to him. What you’d meant. Soft lips pressed against your cheek and brought you back to now. His reassuring smile and quirked eyebrow made the corner of your mouth turn upwards.

“Okay.”


	3. Ignis

He didn’t often get time off, and never a full day. A morning that was clear of meetings, perhaps. Better yet, and like today, an early evening finish. He was already home when you’d finished your day and returned to the apartment with weary feet and an overall desire to shower and slump. He’d made a pitcher of your favourite iced drink and left it on the table, condensation beading deliciously on the smooth glass. With all that extra time, he’d had the opportunity to drop by one of the city’s markets on his way home, picking up the fresh seafood that had arrived on the evening boats.

You found him in the kitchen, in his element. He sipped a cool glass of water, put off his ebony by the recent heatwave, and squeezed lemon juice over some scallops in a pan, revelling in the fizz of liquid on hot iron.

“Hello darling,” he’d smiled, obviously pleased with himself and more so at your open-mouthed reaction. “I was thinking dinner, and then a quick drive?”

You nodded, baffled by his serenity. Ignis never liked time off. It made him nervous. Itchy. He would always find something to do, something to expend his intensity on. Yet, here he was, humming casually as he prepared a salad and baby potatoes to pair with the assortment of shellfish he was working with.

“Yeah, sounds great,” you returned a tentative smile, before heading for the shower.

After a delightful meal and divine company, Ignis was true to his plans. He was going all out to enjoy himself in these precious few hours. You’d cruised through the city, surveying the edges of the grand city parks and various neighbourhoods. It was when he left the city gates that you turned to him, only to see a calm smile.

“Indulge me,” he mused, taking your hand in his as one stayed on the wheel. You scoffed into a grin.

“Always.”

He parked up by a quiet road, folding himself out of the car and taking a deep lungful of fresh, sea air. The sun was low over the sea, drifting as slowly as the seabirds that flew out to it as narrow silhouettes against the redder tones. Ignis came to your side of the car, tucking his gloves into a pocket and taking your hand in his.

“Shall we?”

It was odd to see his composure in a casual light. When working, he kept a cool, even icy, air around him, despite working so feverishly. Once he put the reports away and called it a night, inevitably far too late, he would shower and thaw. Hair returned to it’s softer state, glasses removed to reveal the lush summer green of his eyes. He’d be tired, and heavy.

Right now, he was a combination of both, soft, but organised enough to keep his more cerebral charms.

You walked with him, crossing the tufts of rough, coastal grass before pulling your shoes off. He did the same, rolling his trousers up a little. Woven hands swung between you as you padded across the beach. This was what normal couples did. What the two of you were often denied.

Speaking of which, a couple were walking in the opposite direction to the two of you. They seemed young, maybe in their late teens, arms wrapped around each other and faces connected in a kiss so clumsy it made you cringe a little.

“Evening,” Ignis nodded politely as the two of you passed them. They broke from their snog, looking offended at the interruption. One of them waved, the other kept a sour look on their face. Neither returned the sentiment. Not until they were about twenty feet behind you, and wrongly considered themselves out of earshot.

“Did you hear about that whale that washed up a few days ago?”

“No?”

“We just passed it.”

The cruel laughter cut right through you, but the two of you kept walking. Even as you felt the sand try to swallow you, and yourself sinking into it, you were reminded of one word. Heavy.

When you eventually hazarded a glance at Ignis, it looked as though he’d crack a tooth from clenching his jaw so hard. He was glad you couldn’t hear the internalized string of expletives. His features were sharper, a reptilian coldness settling in his eyes. He closed them, and stood in front of you, halting the two of you. Alone on the beach, he took your hands in his and faced the sea, taking another deep breath of salt spray and free air.

When he turned back to look at you, you were watching the sea. Every crashing wave that rolled in with the rising tide, willing it to swallow you up.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you breathed, fixing on the water. He sighed deeply.

“People can be cruel, but none more so than your own mind. Something will always tell you that you are not enough, or too much.”

You swallowed thickly at his words, refusing to look at him as the back of your eyes burned. He continued.

“I assure you that you are neither too much, nor too little. You are perfectly divine, in my eyes, and I’ll remind you of that until you believe it for yourself again.”

You mentally whimpered a curse as your eyes watered, threatening to let loose a tear. You wouldn’t cry over this, and not in front of him. No. He saw the welling tears and softened his expression even more.

“Darling,” he breathed, taken aback at how pain could pass through a bond. You took a deep breath and blinked your eyes dry before turning back to him.

How could he say you looked ‘divine’ when he was standing there, looking like that? The muted, neutral tones of his skin and hair were illuminated in soft peach tones that brought him to life. He was as smooth as marble, but warm flesh. The shining light of him, the most pronounced colour he held, was in his eyes. He held a summer sea, a lush meadow, all the gifts the sun could give, in hues as clear as water and honest as his words. He watched you with reverence and adoration.

“I love you, Ignis Scientia.” They were the only words you had to give.

“And I you.” 


	4. Gladiolus

He was quiet when he came into the apartment. It was already dark outside, and he was three hours later than usual. He’d texted you, told you he would be, and apologised. He was planning his next apology when he came into the kitchen, eyes resting on the food you were packing into leftover boxes.

“Babe…”

“I know, and it’s fine,” you nodded. You meant it. His job…wasn’t a job. It was a lifestyle and one he couldn’t just throw off under the excuse of a date night the two of you had planned a week ago. You stacked the boxes up and leant against the counter to look at him.

One thing was sure; he suffered in the heat. The recent weather had gone beyond balmy, smothering Insomnia in a humidity the city hadn’t seen for seventy years. Duty bound to remain at least half-dressed at work, the stuffy hallways of the Citadel had kept a polish of sweat on his brow all day.

“Go get a shower, then we’ll eat.”

He watched you, ever expressive brows pulled into an apologetic frown. He nodded. “Okay.”

Ten minutes later and feeling fresher, he helped plate the leftovers up, hungrily eyeing the tap. You shook your head and pulled a jug of iced water from the fridge. Swirls of lemons and limes bathed in the glacial water you’d prepared hours ago. He waited for you to sit with him.

Half an hour later he’d all but finished the water, eaten his fill and was sitting across from you with a tired satisfaction softening his chiselled features. He was about to fall asleep with his chin on his chest when your chair scraped quietly on the floor. You gathered up the dishes and padded barefoot into the kitchen, staying as cool as you could in the sundress you’d chosen, and he loved. He rose from his seat and brought the glasses from the table. The two of you settled into the usual rhythm. He washed, you dried.

It was on a routine glance out of the window that night in the city greeted him. The thousands of lights outshone the stars, blinding the heavens to the bustle of humanity. A quiet breath left him, defeated in a singular desire to see the stars again, a whole sky full of them. To be nowhere, and with you.

Duty tied him to the city walls, and to Noctis. He couldn’t leave without him. Still, an idea fixed in his mind.

“What d’you say to a little adventure?”

You closed a cupboard and folded the dish towel. “Where we going?”

You gasped as he swept you into his arms, twirling you in an impromptu dance in the quiet blue of the unlit kitchen. Ever the romantic, he dipped you and pressed his lips under your ear.

“To the moon.”

He drove to one of the city beaches, holding your hand between gear changes. Once he’d found a parking spot, the two of you left the car and breathed some of the cleanest air the metropolis had to offer. The pavements were dusted with sand that glittered under the streetlights. Whilst not exactly what he wanted, it would do for tonight.

Offering his arm with a cheeky wink and a wiggle of his eyebrows, you laughed gently and took his hand instead. The streets of Insomnia often quelled any breezes, halting them in their paths before they could reach most of the city. The streets were stagnant and suffocating. Here at the edge of the city, the air swirled softly, brushing against your bare legs like some ghostly cat, fond and welcoming. Having abandoned his shirt, he relished in the movement of air, feeling it run past his sides, through his hair and cup his cheeks.

There were a few other people milling around on the beach. A lone dog walker, an elderly couple that made Gladio’s eyes crease in wholesome admiration, and a few runners getting their evening stress relief in.

He held you in steady conversation, quietly asking you about your day as you filled him in on the latest drama between your peers. Still, the passing trio of lean and snarky joggers managed to hook you when you overheard.

“Sheesh, think he’s her trainer?”

“Maybe he uses her for weightlifting.”

The third just laughed.

You felt Gladio let go of your hand, fist balling at his side. The glare he shot was vicious, soft expression brought into sharp, pointed anger. His mouth opened to offer insult, only for you to grab his wrist.

“Don’t.”

After a moment, he gritted his teeth, growling bitterly, barely audible. “They’ve no fucking right-.”

“Gladio,” you warned. “Leave it.”

Six knew you couldn’t. You were acutely aware of the differences between you and Gladio. When he’d first asked you out, you thought it had been a joke. That type of thing had happened before. He was a god, a chiselled likeness of divinity, all marble and brass. Hard muscles and pensive expression.

You were softer, more like clay. Malleable. You remembered how nervous you’d been the first time you’d taken him to bed. But his hands were gentle, his gazes sincere in curiosity and heated with a lust you hadn’t known before. He wanted you, and he’d baptised you in the flames of his embrace until you’d tensed, turned hard and shattered into ecstasy.

You felt a different kind of broken now. Cracked. Some chip gouged from your usually comfortable attitude towards your own body. Your skin felt too tight. Silence fell between the two of you for ten very long minutes. He was the first to pierce the quiet, voice as soft and warm as the sand under your feet.

“You alright?”

You answered far too quickly for it to be honest.

“Yeah, fine. Just tired. Can we- can we go home?”

A fresh pang of frustration flared in him. He quickly stamped it down. Three exceptionally rude strangers were not going to ruin this, for either of you. He took your hand and marched to a quieter end of the beach. Once there, nestled under a cluster of palm trees, he wrapped his arms around you. They felt too hard, too defined to be next to yours. You still didn’t look at him.

“Y/N.”

You bit the inside of your lip.

“Baby, please look at me.”

You could feel his gaze burning into your face. _Please stop looking at me._

“Look, they can say whatever shit they want to, _you_ are-.”

“Can we not talk about this?” You asked, voice small and eyes fixed somewhere to the side.

He took a deep breath. “Fine.”

He let go of you, and for a moment you were relieved. That was before the wrenching of rejection pulled at your heart, clawing it down inside your chest. His hands were back on your shoulders, gently turning you to face the inky water. He held you again, close against his chest as he rested his head on your shoulder and watched the sea with you.

It was hard to believe you were still in the city. The only reminders on a timeless landscape were the faint glow of streetlights on the closest waves, and the King’s wall, rising from the sea, and glowing into the night sky. Still, nothing could outshine the full moon.

You spoke before you could stop yourself. “Sometimes I wish I’d change.”

His steady breathing stilled behind you. Your eyes dropped to the sand. When his lips pressed against your neck, he frowned softly. He pressed his cheek against yours and looked at the sky.

“Look at her,” he whispered. His hand left your waist briefly to point at the silvery moon. “She changes every night, but she’s brightest like this. Strongest like this.”

You glanced up and caught on the moon. Sure enough, she was full and glowing. The rising tide was close at your feet.

He pressed another kiss to your cheek and mumbled softly in your ear. “Okay?”

You hummed in affirmation.

“Good.”

You should’ve known he was up to something, he always was. So, when he gathered you in his arms and sprinted into the waves, you shrieked a little.

“Gladio!” you gripped his shoulders, even as he set you down to stand, waist deep in the cool water. He grinned. “What the hell?”

“It’s too hot,” he groaned playfully, crouching until he dunked his head under the water. He resurfaced with a relieved sigh and took your hands. In all honesty, the refreshment of the waves was a welcome sensation, a stark contrast to the hot, sticky air in the streets.

“Yeah? Well, warn a girl next time!”

He tugged on your hips, pulling you down until you gasped at the instant coolness of the water against warm skin. “Will do.”

He shook the water from his hair, earning a frustrated growl from you. Still, you couldn’t help but laugh at the mess he made of those thick, chocolate brown locks. Transfixed by your smile, and relieved by its return, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer. His lips met yours and he tasted of summer; of salt, lemons and limes.

 


End file.
